


Significator

by Lalaen



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Divination, M/M, Mysticism, Psychic Abilities, Tarot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-05
Updated: 2014-05-05
Packaged: 2018-01-23 17:22:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1573712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lalaen/pseuds/Lalaen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bertholdt indulges in some of his stranger hobbies in order to soothe his anxiety.</p><p>Belongs to Emery's 'Reach for the Moon' storyline.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Significator

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Emery](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emery/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Reach for the Moon](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1075819) by [Emery](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emery/pseuds/Emery). 



> You should all read Reach for the Moon, because that's the universe this is set in - and in fact it gives lots of hints to future events, if you're into theorizing... 
> 
> This takes place some time after chapter four.

"Trying to talk to old friends?"

Bertholdt slid the ouija board away, tucking it under the pile of music theory textbooks and technical audio manuals on their small kitchen table. It was only after gently placing the planchette beside it that he gave Reiner a look that said 'not necessarily'.

As usual, Reiner did not offer any more comments on his strange hobbies, instead bending down to plant a firm kiss on his lips. The bigger boy smelled like the gym, making it very clear both that he'd been there and that he hadn't showered yet. Not that either of these thing were particularly abnormal. 

Bert must have wrinkled his nose, because his boyfriend stuck the tip of his tongue out and grinned as he pulled away. "Come shower with me."

"Busy," Bert mumbled, the slightest edge of annoyance present in his quiet voice. It wasn't that Reiner was bothering him so much as that he actually _was_ busy, the vast majority of his mind elsewhere. Reiner didn't question - he knew Bert would tell him later about whatever he was 'busy' with. Besides, their shower, while not tiny, was incredibly cramped when it came to two men their size.

Saying something about having editing homework and wearing headphones that Bert honestly barely heard, Reiner went down the short hallway to the bathroom.

Thankful for the fact that Reiner had something to do that would keep him quiet and out of the way for a little while, Bert cast a sidelong glance at the cello case set near the door; knowing he should really go get a few hours in before it got too late. However, clearly there would not come a better time to do this. 

Was it really worth doing?

He'd never been good about making decisions for himself. Maybe he shouldn't do it, he hadn't even asked permission.

But that meant he didn't have to _tell_ , either. No one had to know. Except Reiner, but he told that man everything, and he always had. Even when he wasn't believed.

Fortunately Reiner found it cute when he did things of questionable morality.

He leaned on the table to reach for a small wooden box tucked inconspicuously against the wall, sliding it in front of him. Movements almost mechanical, he opened the box and removed its contents; untied their string, and started to shuffle.

Letting his eyes slide closed, Bertholdt sat straight-backed in his chair and listened to the soft snick of the cards against each other in his long fingered and talented hands. Dog-eared as they were, they occasionally caught on each other, but his movements continued just as precise as before. It was his deck, after all.

Finding the place of deep single-minded concentration that he usually only achieved with the bow in his hand, he began to lay the cards out on the table. He didn't need to open his eyes to do that, something which Reiner had described in the past as 'pretty spooky'. The snap of each card against the pressboard seemed oddly final.

Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten.

He opened his eyes, blinking at the cross on the table before him. His gaze alit immediately on the page of swords in the seventh position, and he couldn't stop his mouth from quirking in a tiny smile. The detached surveyor. Usually his deck wasn't so blatant, but there could be no hidden meanings here. He knew he should've asked for permission, but did he really have to be sassed for it? He also failed to see how he could possibly be considered an 'affecting factor'.

Barely a glance was spared for the nine of swords in the position of distant past; he was used to seeing it there. If not that, then something similar. Tonight it presented itself inverted, something almost as unsurprising to him as pulling the king of pentacles for Reiner's significator. He was glad to see the ten of cups as the best possible outcome, as it was a card so overwhelmingly favourable. 

At least happiness was possible. Bertholdt found it usually was.

The star lay across the ace of cups in the centre. He'd expected the ace of cups would show up somewhere, seeing as it held in its possible meanings 'commencement of creative endeavours'. That was what they were all here for, after all. The present position was as logical as any. He would've thought he'd seen the lovers out of the major arcana; but disappointingly it appeared nowhere.

The star was an interesting inclusion, and in the horizontal position of current challenge it had nearly endless possibilities. He furrowed his brows at it, seeking to intuit its meaning, the first yet that hadn't immediately come to him. Close-mindedness just plain didn't apply, nor did protection. Renewed hope? Possibly. Inspiration? Certainly, but it seemed overbearingly irrelevant and bland. The healing of old wounds? That pulled at him a little, but didn't seem quite right.

Self doubt, Bert suddenly mouthed to himself. Inability to trust, and self doubt. The nearly overwhelming sense of _rightness_ made him feel it was safe to move on.

Only one other major arcana showed: the moon, inverted, as the final outcome. His immediate thought was secrecy, but something told him that it was not that but something impossibly, incredibly cryptic. This was a card he always hated to see, which he felt he owed to how often it came up for Reiner with the blaring and blatant implication of illusion versus reality. 

The six of wands was near the bottom in the position of recent past. Here he was sure that it was the most apparent meaning, that of indecision, that he was being shown. Then there was the eight of swords, and there was no doubt in Bert's mind that depression would suit hopes and fears. The two of pentacles in immediate future was almost the most obvious, being as it was one of the easiest cards to read.

The two of pentacles, upright, invariably had to do with change.

That couldn't be all bad.

Finally, in the eighth position of outside influence - the page of wands. It was hard not to find that mildly amusing. The deck had never described Reiner as a witty gossip before, though in this context Bertholdt could hardly deny it was fitting. 

He glanced over the full spread a final time, searching for any nagging doubts. He found only calm satisfaction, something that pleased him. It wasn't by any means a bad spread, there was nothing too unexpected or ground-breaking. Most cards were even upright, which was generally a good sign. All of his anxiety had just been anxiety after all, as usual, and as Reiner had said. Reiner usually was right.

It was time for the significator, the last card which would contextualize the reading. As he drew the card, Bertholdt was no longer worried.

When he glanced down at it, his eyes widened. He rested his chin on his hands, knitting his brows, staring down at the worn card that he'd set, inverted as he'd drawn it, on the table. Why the significator, of all of them? Why did this card have to come up now?

It... could mean a lot of things.

He felt the stirrings of regret in his stomach. Maybe he hadn't wanted to know.

He might've sat there a long time, and if Reiner had asked him exactly how long when the blond man wandered back from their bedroom, Bertholdt would not have been able to answer.

Fortunately, he did not ask. However, he did lean over the table and narrow his eyes at the card in question. "… that doesn't mean what I think it does, does it?" his gruff voice was as close to hesitancy as it ever came.

Bertholdt was silent for a long time, still deep in thought.

"… it could mean a lot of things."


End file.
